Broken Heart
by clair beaubien
Summary: Dean tries to help Sam after he had to 'save' Madison. Full story is set during 2 different times - 10 years ago when John and the boys stopped at friendly motel. And modern day, tag scene to Heart, at the same motel. Told from OFC POV.
1. Then Ch 1

It ain't every day a legend walks into your motel office. But he did that day. I didn't know he was a legend right then. It wasn't until a couple years later that I learned who John Winchester was, what a path he cut in the hunting world. All I knew on that worst day of my life was that _he_ walked into my motel office. Tall and needing a shave and a haircut, and I hoped he wouldn't get either. Wearing boots and jeans and a flannel shirt I wanted suddenly to feel the softness of.

"We need a room for the night." He said and his voice was like worn leather.

"For how many?" I remembered to ask, trying to not get lost in that voice.

"Three." With a casual move he gestured over his shoulder to the car outside and the two boys leaning against it. Teenagers. One, the older one, had his hands in his pockets and was giving the eye to one of my maids walking by. The other boy - thirteen maybe, he had that look - had his nose in an old book so deep I could only see the top of his head.

I had a feeling when he first walked in that this man was a hunter. When I saw the book his boy was reading, I knew. So when he tried to hand me his plastic, I gave him my standard line.

"Your money's no good here."

Most of the time that remark gets me consternation, concern, sometimes outright anger. From this man I got a smile that makes me catch my breath even ten years later.

"And why would that be?"

"Hunters get the first night free."

He didn't lose the smile as he put away his credit card. Either he believed my offer or he was out the door and down the road. Then his eyes met mine again and I forgot that today was the day I'd chosen to give up on all men.

"And what is it you think I hunt?"

"Judging from the book on Latin Prayers your boy is reading, I'd say you're hunting something mighty nasty." He still didn't lose the smile but I could see he was skeptical.

"Meganne Wagner." I said, introducing myself. "My Daddy is Jake Wagner, uncle William. Don't know if you ever heard of 'em but hunting goes way back in my family."

His smiled changed then, he relaxed. "Don't tell me your sister is Adeleida Wagner? I crossed paths with her outside Reno."

"I hope you had the good sense to stay outta her way."

"I did. John Winchester. My boys Dean and Sam."

"Well it's good to meet you John Winchester." I gave him my best smile, forgetting in the space of less than ninety seven seconds that I'd been planning to spend the rest of my life nursing the broken heart that my so-called boyfriend had ridden his Harley over the night before. "You're in luck, our best room is available. Two beds and a pull out couch. Or I can get you a roll-away if you want."

"Couch'll be fine, thanks. How late's your diner open?"

"Twenty four hours a day. First meal is free too. Just charge it to your room and it'll be taken care of." I laid his key on the counter. "You let me know if you need anything."


	2. Now Ch 1

Ten years later my door opened again and two tall boys walked in. They both looked done in and dragging. I figured the older one was in front, the boy behind him was taller but had that look of being younger, and with dark eyes, a hollow look and a huge bandage on his cheek, he sure looked more ragged.

I pegged them as hunters though it's unusual for hunters to travel in numbers greater than one. But they had that look.

"We need a room for the night." The boy in front said. He seemed familiar but I couldn't quite place him. He set his plastic on the counter and I gave him the standard answer for hunters.

"Your credit's no good here."

The younger boy breathed out a soft sound that could've been derision or it could've been despair, but the older one smiled at me, "And why would that be?" and I realized all at once who they were.

"Hunters get the discount – and John Winchester's boys stay for free." I gave them half a minute but no more to get their reaction. Dean – I still remembered their names – didn't lose his smile but he was appraising me. Sam lifted his eyes about halfway up Dean's back but otherwise didn't react.

"You don't remember about ten years back? You stopped here with your Daddy. 'Course we weren't any bigger than spit on a brick back then, just a few rooms and a diner. But the Good Lord saw fit to bless us with an exit right off the interstate in our laps and we kinda exploded since then. Motel, restaurant, Laundromat, full service gas station. You don't remember?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, trying to remember. Sam behind him whispered, "Wagner. Meganne Wagner," sounding like that was all the strength he could muster, and Dean's expression cleared. He nodded.

"Father Jake, Uncle William. And of course your sister Adelaida." He gave an appropriate shudder. "No, I didn't recognize the place at all. I remember stopping, but…" He trailed off and I took stock of them again. Tired and looking near about to drop both of them. I took the key out of its special spot in the special drawer.

"Here you go, second last room on the left, number 11. Restaurant's open 24/7, charge it to your room and it'll be taken care of. Anything you boys need, you let me know."

"Thanks." Dean turned and waited a second, but Sam didn't register that they were leaving. "Sam?" Dean asked, sounding gentle and concerned and he touched Sam's arm. He got a questioning look from his brother. "Go to the room?"

"Oh. Okay. Sure." And he opened the door and Dean held it while they walked out and in a minute that beautiful car drove past and down to their room.

There'd been talk in the past few months that no one had seen or heard anything of John Winchester. Judging from the looks on those boys' faces I expected the worst. And I was surely gonna miss that man.


	3. Doing Laundry

"Bad hunt?" That leather-smooth voice snuck up behind me while I was pounding trash cans into my housekeeping cart.

"Bad _luck_." I said. "Damn bad luck." I set the trash can inside the open motel room door and looked up at him. At John Gorgeous Winchester. He was smiling at me, and there was definitely kindness in his eyes.

"And his name was - ?"

"Not worth repeating." Right at that moment I was lucky to remember my own name. "He traded me in for a younger model. And I only found out about it because they stopped here on their way to Reno 'cause he thought he left his shaving kit here."

"So – he's an idiot as well as a jerk."

"He could be a stain on my windshield for all I care. And I wish he was."

"Was he a hunter?

"Ha. He couldn't tell a wendigo from a water spirit. What he was, was 'high, wide, and handsome'. And he rode a Harley."

"All that, was he?"

"He thought he was." I tried to ignore the gold band on John Winchester's left hand but it felt like it was burning right into my eyes. "Ain't like I got much cause to be picky."

He kept his eyes on mine and smiled.

"I disagree."

How I remained standing? Well, to this day, I still don't know.

He turned then to look behind him. I followed where he was looking and saw that his boys had come out of their motel room. I hadn't heard a thing, but then my attention _had_ been elsewhere. The taller son was tossing something into the air and catching it again and the younger one was tugging on the sleeve of his brother's shirt. They were headed in the direction of the diner.

I looked at John Winchester looking at his boys and I could see that nothing else existed for him right at that moment.

"You got a couple of fine boys there."

"Yes I do." He agreed with me right away. "They're both the spitting image of their Mother."

"Looks like they get along pretty good."

"They'd die for each other."

**PRESENT DAY**

I was crossing back to the office when I heard the boys talking at their door.

"Dean - we need laundry." Even fifty feet away I could see Sam was bowed under something heavier than the duffel bags on his shoulder.

"_No_, you need to eat."

"I can't even think about eating. And don't tell me again that I need to sleep. I _need_ to do laundry." Sam didn't give his brother another chance to argue, just turned away to the laundromat at the far end of the complex.

Dean saw me watching then and had to know I'd overheard them. He smiled and tipped his head to side, like he was saying the argument was no big deal. He didn't follow Sam like I expected him to so I walked over.

"Bad hunt?" I asked him.

He blew out a breath. Considering whether or not to tell me. Before he said anything, he watched Sam until he walked into the laundromat and the door closed over behind him.

"He fell in love with a girl who turned out to be a werewolf."

The look on his face told me how hard he was working through his own pain just to keep moving and take care of his brother.

"And Sam had to kill her." I guessed.

"Worse - when she knew what she'd become - she'd only just been turned, it was only her first lunar cycle - she _asked_ Sam to kill her. She told him she knew it was the only way he could save her."

"Oh my Lord. When?"

"Four days ago."

"_Oh my Lord._ You poor boys. Is that what happened to his face?"

"Yeah. We kinda let it go while we were trying to help her. We're playing catch up now trying to keep it from scarring too much."

"Well, we got a practical whole pharmacy here, anything you need just -."

I didn't get to say much more than that and Dean was off, hurrying over to the laundromat and his brother. I followed behind, just in case.

Two washing machines stood open, two duffels hung empty on one of the sorting tables. Sam Winchester was looking even emptier, sitting next to the open washing machines on the low stool I keep in the place for my shorter customers. He was leaning against the machine, looking dazed and in pain.

"Sam?" Dean crouched in front of him. "Hey - how're you comin' with the laundry?" I got the feeling this wasn't an entirely unusual situation between the brothers, talking easy through an emotional wringer.

"I ran out of quarters."

"We can take care of that." Dean made it sound like it was no big deal, like that was all that was wrong. He stood up and felt in his pockets while he looked into the open machines.

"Is there soap in here?"

"I don't have any soap." Sam said. He didn't move an inch from where he rested his head against the washing machine. "I don't have anything."

"That's okay. That's okay Sam. We can take care of this." Dean crouched down in front of Sam again and put his hands on his shoulders. His tone was still light, like Sam had only left the soap in the car, not like he was having a breakdown in a public laundromat.

"I need to do laundry."

"And we'll do the laundry. First we need to get you back to the room -."

"NO!" That sure got Sam's attention. "No - I don't want to go there. I don't want to go back to the room. You'll leave. I don't want to go to sleep. You'll leave."

"Where am I going to go?"

"To do laundry. To get dinner. You'll leave."

"I won't go anywhere Sammy, I promise. Okay? Everything else can wait, the important thing is to get you back to the room."

Even though Sam was taller than Dean, I had the feeling that in situations like this Dean could make Sam do what he wanted, against his will if it came to it. Or maybe in situations like this, Dean could make his will Sam's will.

"Dean - please. Please. I'll wait here. I will. I'll wait until we get soap and quarters." Sam put his hands on Dean's shoulders, gripped his shirt in his fingers. Sitting like that, each brother with his arms out to the other, they made their own safe area I thought. They made their own privacy.

"I don't have quarters with me Sam and I'm not going to leave you here to go get some."

"I don't want to go to sleep - please Dean. _Please_."

Sam leaned enough to rest his forehead on Dean's shoulder. His breath came out in half sobs, each inhalation sharp and painful sounding. Dean put a hand on the back of Sam's head and one arm around his shoulders.

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Dean asked. He was still sounding easy and lighthearted. "Did I say anything about sleeping? We'll order in and find something stupid on TV and just chill."

Sam didn't say anything and Dean didn't say anything else. He leaned even closer into Sam and pressed his cheek against Sam's hair.

"Okay, it's okay Sammy. We'll get through this."

I waited, and I felt like I was getting to watch something so private it should've been a crime for me to be there. ButI thought I should leave, leave them alone in this, but I thought my leaving might be more disruptive than just standing quietly by the door. So I stayed there.

"All right Sam." Dean said after awhile. "We need to get you back to the room."

"No - I need to do -."

"_Laundry_, I know."

And though Dean was older – or maybe _because_ - I had the feeling he was used to giving and getting Sam whatever he needed. So right now he'd be trying to figure a way to get laundry done with quarters and soap he didn't have in his pockets. I took the chance to move a little closer.

"I can take care of your laundry for you."

I thought for sure Dean wouldn't have known or remembered that I was there, but he didn't seem surprised at all. He gave me a glance and nodded.

"Okay Sam? Meganne's gonna take care of the laundry. So maybe this time _somebody_ won't burn a hole in my jeans with the bleach, hunh?"

Sam laughed, a strong laugh despite the tear stains down his face. Then he laughed again.

Men and laundry, I just don't know.

Dean seemed delighted with the laugh, though he put on a sour face.

"Laugh it up Sammy, laugh it up. Remember, next time it's _my_ turn to do the laundry...c'mon, you ready to get out of here?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Sam nodded. Dean stood up, helping Sam up with a hand under his arm. When they were standing, I could see it again - though Sam was taller, he was the little brother and he kept his eyes on Dean, because whatever Dean said, Sam would do.

Because that was how it worked between them.

"C'mon, here we go." Dean put a hand on Sam's arm to guide him toward the door. He smiled at me as they walked past, but kept his focus on Sam.

"Thanks for doing the laundry." Sam said before Dean had him out the door. The tears hadn't even dried on his face. That boy was in agony and he took the time and trouble to _thank_ me.

"You're welcome honey. You boys need anything, you let me know."

Then I watched them walk back to their motel room, Sam still bowed under that invisible weight, Dean walking beside him, keeping his eye on him. He was talking to Sam, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Whatever he was saying, Sam nodded and Dean smiled and they disappeared into their room.

To be continued


	4. Dinner

Before I got the boys' laundry underway, I called the diner and asked our cook to whip up a bunch of dinner for them. After Dean promised Sam up one side and down the other that he wouldn't leave the motel room even to get them something to eat, I figured they could use a care package. Once that was taken care of, I got to work on their clothes.

Men and laundry, I just don't know. Sam had pushed all their dirty clothes into just two machines when their jeans alone needed one all to their lonesome. 'Course he hadn't exactly been in a laundry state of mind when he was in here. Poor boy.

I picked through the machines and put maybe a woman's shine on the sorting: jeans in one machine, shirts in another, socks and small clothes in a third - and more t-shirts than I ever seen all in one place in a fourth. I probably could've been able to fit everything in three machines but more room would give them better chance to get more clean.

One thing I notice as I sorted their clothes: aside from some jeans with bleach burns and some other ones with ragged heels - and somebody has got to tell me how a boy as tall as Sam finds jeans that are too long - none of the clothes had any holes or mends or patches. Hunting is a hard life and it takes as much out of clothes as it does skin. Either the boys didn't know mending or they didn't want to wear mending. Or - torn clothes were bloody clothes and blood is damn hard to wash out and it was easier just to buy them clean than to wash them clean.

I put the clothes in with the best detergent we got and twice as much softener as the little plastic balls called for. Once all the machines were chugging away, I went to the kitchen to get the boys' dinner.

I packed it all into a sturdy banana box and carried it down to their room. Just as soon as I knocked on the door, I caught a glimpse of them through their curtains. They were both on the far bed. Sam was sitting against the headboard, curled over like a question mark. Even from where I stood, he looked miserable. Dean was sitting opposite him, one leg bent up on the mattress, leaning over like he was trying to get a look into Sam's face while he was saying something to him. Seeing that I backed up fast and wished I hadn't bothered them just then.

The door opened a few seconds later though, Dean looking like he didn't have a care in the world. Behind him, Sam had turned so that his back was to me, still bowed over.

"Laundry's not ready already is it?" Dean asked. He sounded casual enough but I could hear strain in his voice.

"I'm sorry to intrude. I thought you boys could use this, I brought you some dinner."

"Oh - um - thanks. We - um -." As Dean was stammering what I thought might be a 'thanks but he's not going to eat it anyway', Sam went into the bathroom and shut the door.

"It's the 'Bad Hunt Special'." I told Dean. "Grilled cheese, potato salad, white pizza, egg salad, veggie sticks and veggie wraps, bananas, grapes, cereal and milk, crackers and cheese, microwave popcorn, bottles of water - basically nothing that ever had a face."

"_Thank you_." Dean said and a weight seemed to fall off of him. "You have no idea how hard it's been to get him to eat anything. Or - I guess maybe you do. Everything seems to be blood red or look like -." He took the box from me and I could see him already scanning the containers for what he'd have Sam eat first.

"_Thank you._"

"You boys need anything else? I'm not meaning to diagnose or anything, but we've got tranquilizers, sleeping pills..."

"He won't take 'em. He doesn't want to fall into a sleep he can't wake up out of."

"Even with you nearby."

"Sometimes I can't be nearby enough." He looked back to the bathroom door. The weight that came off his shoulders seemed to have settled on his face. "I think once I can get him to eat, he'll fall asleep all on his own. I hope he does anyway."

"I'll let you go then. Take care of your brother. I'll bring your laundry when it's done."

"Thanks Meganne. You have no idea."

"Honey, don't you think one more thing about it. I'm glad to help you. Now go on and feed that brother of yours. I'll bring your laundry when it's done."

"Thanks." He said and smiled. Now that boy doesn't have near as knee-wobbling a smile as his Daddy, but my-my if it doesn't come close.

I went back to the laundromat to move their clothes from washing machine to dryer. A couple of their shirts still had stains - _blood _stains - on them, and I put those aside to wash again. I wondered if they were the shirts they'd worn when they helped that poor girl. I decided to wait until all their clothes were dry before I brought them to the room. I didn't want to disturb those boys any more often than I had to.

When all the clothes were ready, since I'd sorted and separated them and couldn't sure what was whose, I packed them all into a laundry basket instead of the duffels, and carried the whole shebang over to their room.

I knocked and heard '_I got it'_ from inside. The door opened - and there stood Sam Winchester. He looked four kinds of exhausted but he also looked a lot less broken than the last couple of times I saw him. The bandage was off his cheek and the scratches looked nasty, but he smiled.

"Meganne - hey. Are these our clothes? Thanks." He took the basket from me. His hair was damp and he'd changed his clothes, and beyond him I saw on the table the remains of a good sized supper. "Thanks for doing this for us. Dean's kinda particular about his clothes."

As if on cue, Dean came out of the bathroom. He was carrying a pair of surgical shears.

"Okay, they're sterilized now -." He stopped when he saw me. "Meganne."

"What in the world are you thinking of slicing off with those things?" I had to ask.

"Oh - he's cutting strips of gauze to put under the tape." Sam explained. He gestured to his cheek. "So it doesn't stick to the scabs. To pull all the edges together before he puts the big bandage on. He won't do it unless the scissors are sterilized first."

Now, off-the-grid healthcare is standard with hunters - the fewer the hospital visits, the better. But I could see with these boys that there was more than physical care going on. I had an idea Sam meant to sound put out that Dean made a fuss about the scissors being clean enough, but the look on his face was pure little brother adoration and that made it clear - Dean was tending to a wound that was on Sam's heart as much as on his face, and doing a damn fine job of it too.

"You boys need any medical supplies? We got a storehouse full."

Sam said, "Oh - no, thanks," just as Dean said, "We'll need

some more gauze probably tomorrow." They looked at each other like they weren't surprised they hadn't said the same thing. Sam gave.

"We could use some gauze." He told me, and when he looked at Dean again, Dean gestured with his head that he should be setting that basket down inside.

"I'll bring some by tomorrow. You think of anything else you need, you let me know. Just call the desk."

"Okay, we will." Sam said. "Thanks again for the laundry." Following Dean's unspoken order, he turned back into the room with the laundry basket and set it on the table and started sorting through it. Dean watched him then took a step or two outside.

"Meganne – really - thanks for the dinner. He ate more than I was hoping he would."

"He should sleep then. Both of you should." I meant it as an order as much as a prediction.

"We will. We both will." Then he turned to follow his brother into the motel room. As the door closed, I heard him say,

"Okay Sam, put down your delicates and set your ass in that chair..."

to be continued…


	5. Smile

_Then_

I was out on the weed-choked, broken-bricked, four-feet-square 'patio' behind the office a couple nights later, nursing a beer, a cigarette, and the world's stupidest broken heart when John Winchester walked into my world again. I hadn't seen him, any of the three of them, in a few days.

"Hey, something you need?" I asked, and years of taking care of my customers had it coming out happy and helpful. But in all actuality, as nerve-tingling as it was to have that man that close, at that right moment I wanted to be alone with my spite against my ex-boyfriend in particular and all men in general.

But when John Winchester answered me, "I was gonna ask you the same thing…" with his smooth voice and charming smile, I kicked my spite to the curb and invited him in instead.

"Beer?" I offered from the Styrofoam cooler sitting on the bricks next to me.

"Thanks."

He took it and made himself a seat across from me on the neat pile of cement blocks that'd been waiting half a decade to be made into a new patio wall. He stretched his legs and shook his head against my offer of a cigarette.

"Where's your boys?" I asked him.

"Drive-in. _Independence Day_ ." He smiled.

"You didn't want to go?"

He shrugged.

"They need a break from their old man."

"And your hunt?"

Another shrug, another charming smile as he pulled a swallow of beer.

"Taken care of."

And that, I gathered, was _that._

"So –" He said, and I was getting to realize he could be mighty economical with words. "You?"

I gave my own shrug and took my own pull of beer.

"Wishing for better days."

That made him laugh. And his laugh was just as smooth-leather sexy as every physical inch of him was.

"You come across any, you give me a call."

"I'll do that." I promised him with my own laugh.

While I had another swallow of beer, I took in every last detail about him, from the wear pattern on the bottom of his boots, to his denim jeans and cotton shirt, past the five o'clock shadow and up to those eyes that I figured could kill someone dead or make everything right, all depending on who it was John Winchester was looking at.

And right then, he was looking at me.

"If you're off duty, I hear this place has a diner that serves a pretty good meal." He offered me.

First my heart jumped, and then my eyes dropped – and lighted right on that wedding ring.

"And does that meal come with side order heartache?" I asked him. "'Cause I have sure had my fill."

He followed my look down to his hand and his ring. He lost the charming smile

"This is all I have left of her." He said, holding up his hand and showing that ring full to me. "This and the boys. There isn't a day I don't miss her. "

He studied that ring a minute more before he put his hand down on his knee again.

"Not looking for heartache," he said. "Just a meal. Talk to somebody who knows the deal. That's all."

He smiled, but not his 100 watt charming smile. Just a nice, warm one.

And I thought that was the better smile.

_Now_

The next time I saw those boys was the middle of the morning, next day. It was Monday and our weekend crowd had died down and wouldn't pick up again 'til Thursday at least. I was walking from office to restaurant and made sure my feet took me across the parking lot where I'd get a good look at their front door. I had the gauze with me Dean said they'd need. If they looked to be up and available, I'd drop it off. If not, that'd be a later chore.

It ended up I got an eyeful more than their door, though. There was Dean, under an open hood, tending to his car. And though the sky was gray and the wind was sharper than my sister Adelaida's tongue, behind him the door to the motel room stood halfway open. He straightened up and caught sight of me and gave me a nod up, so I headed over there.

"We got a full-on working garage." I told him when I was close enough. "You could be working in the warm, dry, and wind free."

"Naah, I'm good." He told me, setting a box wrench into his toolbox and wiping his hands on a rag. "I like working on my own."

I give him a pointed look beyond, where I could see his brother, still sleeping out on the far bed.

"I'm thinking that's not 100% true." I told him. He smiled but didn't answer it. He did look back over his shoulder into the room, I thought maybe gauging what maybe I could see. So I moved over so I wasn't getting that eyeful anymore. Dean moved with me, still wiping his hands on that rag, checking as he took his steps that when he stopped, he could still see what he needed to see in the room.

"How're you two doing?" I asked him.

"A lot better than we were." He told me. "A _whole_ lot better. You really helped us out."

I shrugged that away. Whatever I did wasn't doing anything compared to hunting.

"I figure a hunter helps me out anytime they hunt. Least I can do is keep the home front stocked with food and laundry detergent. And medical supplies." I added, handing over the package of gauze.

"It was a lot more than that, and you know it."

I shrugged again, looking someplace else. I never been one much for compliments, especially from good looking men. Even after all this time, being thought anything of don't sit right on me.

"I'm just glad I could help." I mostly said down to my boots. Then another thought blossomed up and I looked at Dean again. "I ain't heard anything about your Daddy in a while." I told him. "I'm real sorry."

He nodded and shrugged and sniffed and rolled the package of gauze in his hands and looked somewhere else than at my condolence.

"Yeah. It was – um – yeah."

And that was all I figured either one of us could stand.

"So – Sam's doing better?" I asked, hoping I was taking us onto safer territory. Seemed I was.

"Yeah. He's slept fifteen hours, off and on. More 'on' than 'off'." Dean answered straight away. "It's been a while since he's gotten that much sleep in a week, much less one night."

"And how much sleep have _you_ gotten?"

Asking him that question got me a closed expression at first, like it wasn't my business and I was about to find out how much it wasn't my business. But then I got a quirk of a grin like he'd been caught out on something he wasn't expecting to get caught out on.

"_Enough. _Trust me – Sammy makes sure of it._"_

That surprised me.

"Even when he's stretched this thin?"

"Ha. Up, down, conscious, half-unconscious, gushing blood or frozen stiff - if there's one thing a Winchester is good at, it's bossing other Winchesters around. We're a stubborn bunch."

_Stubborn_. One exhausted brother sterilizing scissors before bandaging his injured brother, then that injured brother pushing sleep on the exhausted brother. Right – _stubborn._

"Well, if that's what you call _stubborn,_ this world sure needs it by the truckful." I told him.

He gave me a smile at that, not his usual grin but that warm kind of smile his Daddy'd let me see that once or twice. Then something caught his attention from inside the room – Sam rousing maybe or probably – and I figured I'd leave before I was left.

"You boys need anything else, you let me know. All right?"

"Thanks, Meganne."

By the time I crossed from their car to the restaurant, the tools were packed and the car was shut and Dean was gone into the room.

To be continued…sometime this decade…


End file.
